


The Whispered Weight of Stolen Names

by Kyriadamorte



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 7 different flavors of guilt, A woman's place is in the rebellion, Amnesia, Autumn romance, Coma, Disabled Character, F/M, Padme lives Au, but not quite enough for a tag, gratuitous references to sand, how do you fix what you broke?, luke and owen and beru make appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/pseuds/Kyriadamorte
Summary: "There once was a man named Anakin Skywalker." His voice cracks on the name. "He's the one who took your name from you.  He took his name from himself."He takes a deep breath.  "And mine.  He took my name from me, too.""My name is-"He clears his throat, looks at her, finally looks at her."My name is Obi-wan Kenobi."OR:The one where Padme doesn't die, but goes into a coma and Obi-wan takes care of her on Tatooine.  And then she wakes up.





	The Whispered Weight of Stolen Names

Anakin squeezes, crushes, presses against her windpipe and Padme's world fades to black.

 

~

 

When she wakes, she’s surrounded by white.

 

There’s something in her mouth and nose and her arms feel impossibly heavy.

 

A droid pokes and prods and scans and she can do little more than lie there and let it.She thinks maybe it is speaking to her.She has no idea what it’s saying.

 

Her eyelids grow heavy and she is in darkness again.

 

~

 

When she opens her eyes again, there’s a man staring down at her.His face makes something in her ache.She cannot place him, but she knows him, she _does._ His expression tears at her, too; joy and grief, relief tinged with panic.He smiles when her eyes find his, but there are tears making their way down his cheeks.He’s all torn up as well.

 

He speaks to her, but meaning flits just beyond her grasp.His voice is soft and low and warm and beautiful, though, and she lets it wash over her.At some point, his hand tentatively reaches out to touch hers.Her fingers twitch beneath his and his smile widens slightly.

 

It’s nice.

 

~

 

Eating, it turns out, is less nice.

 

So much of her has to remember how to do its job.Muscles long atrophied have to be urged and encouraged to do simple tasks.Her coordination is a joke and sometimes she stares at her fingers, willing them to move and it feels like they belong to a stranger.

 

Tatooine’s food doesn’t really help the process.It’s bland and viscous and horrible and not nearly a good enough reward for the effort she puts into eating it.

 

Ben - _it’s what he calls himself, but there’s something nudging at the edge of her mind that tells her that’s not quite right_ \- doesn’t so much as blink when she inevitably makes a mess of herself, just keeps talking while he wipes her clean as if nothing has happened.

 

It makes it slightly more bearable.Slightly.

 

~

 

The first time she walks, he’s all but carrying her and the whole “walking” business seems to be little more than a formality, legs flopping about, feet going one-two-twist-fall on the sterilized floor.It gets better, though, with time, and she eventually ventures out beyond the bright white walls of her sterilized room into the small dwelling beyond.

 

It’s like stepping into a different world.Her world was clean and bright and empty; his is dark and dusty and crowded with furniture that doesn’t quite fit right in his tiny little hovel.

 

She thinks she likes it anyway.

 

She touches the rough walls and the itchy fabric and marvels at the sensation while he looks at her oddly.

 

“It’s different,” she says, her mouth and brain all behaving today to correctly form the words.“I can feel the way it-“She stops, frustrated.“I can _feel_.”

 

“I understand,” he says and she really thinks he might.

 

~

 

He doesn’t take her out during the day.

 

“Your skin hasn’t been exposed to natural sunlight in years.If you go out there, the suns will burn you to a crisp,” he says, taking a teasing delight in the latter part of that statement.

 

She suspects that isn’t all there is, but she waits and uses the little cane contraption he’s made for her and together they go out to watch the suns set.

 

She takes off her shoes and wiggles her toes and flexes her fingers.Sand gets everywhere.

 

There’s a spiteful sort of satisfaction at this and she doesn’t know why.

 

~

 

“What’s my name?” she asks one morning, a surprisingly long time after she first wakes up.

 

He hesitates and says, “We’ll call you Mala.”

 

That wasn’t what she asked.She doesn’t argue, though.

 

~

 

Time passes and Mala ( _not right, it doesn’t fit quite right_ ) grows stronger, strong enough to make it easily around the house and the surrounding area, especially if she has her walker.Strong enough that Ben (it’s not his name, she’s _certain_ ) leaves her alone some days, at least for a little while.

 

She’s being foolish, she _knows_ she’s being foolish, even as she shuffles further and further away from the tiny building that’s been her whole world.She still doesn’t know much, her memories and nightmares are too bound up in each other for her to distinguish fact from fiction, and Ben tells her less, saying it’s best she remembers on her own (she suspects this is a bunch of bantha shit).

 

Mala knows this much, though: she is not and has never been one to do well in a cage.

 

Her legs burn and strain against the unusual activity as she plods along, exploring the sandy, rocky wasteland.She reaches some rather interesting rock formations and sees some small shrubs that are prickly and slightly sticky to the touch.She marvels at this bright expansive world for a while, taking in the rusty kaleidoscope of the desert and the bits of life hiding in its nooks and crannies.

 

She’s quite proud of herself as she makes her way home, until she realizes her journey _back_ has taken much longer than her journey _out_ there.She tries not to panic as she drinks the last of her water and her legs start giving out beneath her.She sits on a boulder. ( _Collapses on a boulder._ )Just for a moment.

 

Just for a moment…

 

~

 

When she wakes, something is obscuring the relentless sunlight beating through her eyelids.

 

“Miss? Miss? Are you alright?” a small voice says above her.

 

Her eyes flutter open.A small blond boy with bright blue eyes is staring down at her.

 

Her heart stops.

 

“Ani?”

 

“Huh?”He cocks his head to the side, brows knit in confusion.“My name is Luke.”

 

“Are you an angel?” she asks.She knows the words aren’t her own, even as she says them, but she means them all the same.

 

He breaks into a smile that takes up his whole face and he giggles.

 

It’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard and she has the inexplicable urge to cry.

 

Which would be unfortunate, considering how dehydrated she is.

 

“I- I got lost.” _I still am._

 

“It looks like you fell.Did you hit your head?Are you hurt?”

 

He helps her sit up and starts inspecting her.

 

“I don’t think so.I’ve run out of water, though.And I need to get home.”

 

“Where’s that?” He says, with one hand still propping her up.“Home, I mean?”

 

She realizes she doesn’t know.She opens her mouth to tell him, but the exhaustion has robbed her of her words and she fumbles for a few minutes before he takes pity on her.

 

“Well, I can always take you to my home.You need water.And Aunt Beru should make sure you’re not hurt.And I think there’s a sandstorm coming.Those can be nasty,” he says, authoritatively.

 

He can’t be more than ten or so, but he puts her arm over his shoulders and easily maneuvers her into his speeder.Her body is still tiny and frail from the years asleep, but a glow of something like pride still burns for her little hero.

 

“Thank you,” she manages, eventually.The words are slurred and the vowels are a bit off, but he doesn’t comment, just beams at her.

 

She blinks and another boy’s face looks back at her from behind her eyelids.

 

~

 

Luke’s caregivers (his aunt and uncle, not his parents, he tells her somberly) are kind and attentive, but their eyes linger on her in a way that is…odd.

 

“What did you say your name was again, dear?” The woman - _Beru_ \- asks.

 

“Mala,” she answers after finishing off her third glass of water.

 

Beru meets her husband’s eyes and Mala tries to decipher the look that passes between them.

 

She's been here before, she _has._

 

(She's seen them before.Met them before.But the memories keep slipping, slipping, slipping…)

 

She pushes it away as Luke shows her his toys and tries to teach her a game with marbles and dice.He's all patience and smiles as she fumbles and stutters and forgets the rules again and again.

 

She doesn't know why this makes her want to cry.

 

~

 

It's getting dark and Luke is (reluctantly) getting ready for bed when Ben bursts into Lars household, eyes wide and wild, hair askew.

 

His eyes land on her and everything in him relaxes (to the point where it looks like he might fall over). 

 

"P- Mala!What were you thinking?!"

 

"I got lost," she says, not paying attention to the words as they leave her mouth because her mind keeps looping over and over and over again.The name his mouth wanted to say.The name he's hidden from her.The name she's hidden from herself.

 

_Padme._

 

_~_

 

He ushers her into an old and clunky speeder and they head home.The first twenty minutes are the loudest silence that Mala ( _Padme_ ) can remember.He's buzzing next to her, clenching his jaw and staring straight ahead.When he finally breaks, there's no segue,no warning.

 

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?You can't just wander off like that!Tatooine is not a pleasure planet; there are people out there, Mala, people out there who want to _hurt_ you.You cannot image how-"

 

"Padme," she says, insistent, but calm.

 

He stops his tirade and there's a beat of silence."What did you say?"

 

"Padme," she repeats. "That's my name, isn't it?My name is Padme.Why did you take my name from me?"

 

Her voice cracks on the last sentence and Ben's face crumbles.He slows the speeder to a stop and closes his eyes firmly shut and presses his forehead against the steering wheel.

 

"What do you remember?" he whispers into the dashboard, into the cold empty desert night.

 

" _Don't_ ," she says.She's tired and embarrassed and frustrated and fucking _scared_. "We're not doing this anymore.You're going to _tell_ _me."_

 

She's not asking; she's telling, demanding.It feels like slipping into an old dress she'd forgotten she'd owned.

 

He doesn't look at her when he finally speaks."There once was a man named Anakin Skywalker." His voice cracks on the name. "He's the one who took your name from you.He took his name from himself."

 

He takes a deep breath."And mine.He took my name from me, too."

 

Padme holds her breath, afraid that if she breathes too loud it'll break the spell and Ben will go back to being silent and enigmatic and she'll go back to be scared and hesitant and confused.

 

"My name is-"

 

He clears his throat, looks at her, _finally_ looks at her.

 

"My name is Obi-wan Kenobi."

 

~

 

He starts up the speeder again and tells her his story ( _their_ story) on the way home.

 

And as they hobble into the house.And as they sit inside around the fire.

 

He talks and talks and talks.She tries to just listen, but she interrupts every now and then with questions.

 

("But why didn't the Jedi come back for her later?", "So, the chancellor did all this and no one every once suspected him?", "But _why? why? why?")_

 

~

 

That night, as she bathes, she runs a hand over the scar on her lower abdomen and she now knows what it is.What it was.What it _means._

 

She was a mother.Twice over. 

 

She wants to cry, but tears don't come.She doesn't sleep that night.

 

~

 

“This is me.I did this," she says, a few days later.

 

"No," he answers, shaking his head, placing a tentative hand on her upper arm. " _No._ "

 

He won't let her have this guilt.

 

(Not when he's been claiming it as his own.)

 

~

 

Obi-wan and Padme have a different dance around each other than Ben and Mala did.But it's not quite same dance that they used to have, either - of that much she is certain.He's nervous, hesitant, and guilty ( _always, always_ guilty). 

 

She tries not to let it fester.She forces herself to wake up as early as he does and sit with him as they eat.She doesn't let the silences drag on too long.

 

Still, it takes over a year for them to settled into a new normal that doesn't have them flinching at each other.

 

~

 

It takes a junk trader, oddly enough, trying to push everything in their cart onto Ben and Mala as they venture into town for supplies, that finally, _finally_ knocks them out of their broken rhythm.

 

(They're still Ben and Mala when they go into town.It's a mantle she's uncomfortable wearing, but she recognizes its necessity all the same.)

 

"Your wife, I think would look beautiful in these," they say, holding up a handful of rusty bangles.

 

"Undoubtedly," Ben replies, "but then again, she looks beautiful in whatever she wears."

 

She thinks, at first, that this was just a way to brush off an overly attentive salesperson, but he refuses to look at her the entire ride home and his cheeks are flush beneath his beard.

 

She turns this possibility back and forth through her thoughts that night as she falls asleep. And the next morning.And the whole next week. 

 

The conclusion she eventually comes to is that she thinks she might like it.

 

~

 

They don't talk about it, this thing between them, not for months, but it doesn't seem to surprise either of them when she kisses him.

 

Her fingers slip into his thinning, greying hair.She scratches his scalp lightly and he closes his eyes, leaning into her hand like a cat.Her other hand reaches up to cup his cheek and, she admits, the beard feels a bit odd beneath her touch.Dorme and Kelsa’s faces had been smooth like hers and Anakin had rarely let his facial hair grow beyond stubble.It feels even odder when she brushes her lips lightly against his.His breath exhales shakily against her lips and the hairs of his beard and mustache tickle her and she’s laughing against his mouth.Thankfully, he seems to relax at that instead of growing affronted and chuckles in return.

 

It feels so good to laugh - even better, perhaps, than the kiss (they’re both absurdly out of practice).

 

He lets her maneuver him until he’s sitting on his little bed and she moves to sit astride him.Her leg gives out halfway through and she falls into him, bashing her nose against his forehead, but it’s alright because he catches her and guides her until she’s more steady and they’re both still laughing.They kiss and kiss and he holds more and more of her weight as her muscles slowly give out.Then he moves and they’re laying side by side, still kissing, hands on each other’s faces and she’s smiling, smiling, smiling.

 

~

 

They don’t have sex that night.Nor the next.Nor the next few.They mostly just hold each other in that ridiculously small bed and kiss until they fall asleep.She points this out one evening, playfully.

 

“We’re getting old,” she adds, grinning into his neck.

 

“Old- _er_.I’d say we’ve at least a few more years until we’re properly old.”He slips into his peculiar pattern of banter. She remembers it more and more with each day: sarcasm and snark and one-liners that brought a smile to her face.

 

“We spent so many years running on far too little sleep," he continues."This is just us…catching up a bit.”

 

She snickers, running her hand down the slightly softening planes of his abdomen,“You’d think nearly ten years would’ve been enough for me to make up the deficit, though, wouldn’t you?”

 

His smile falters and a shadow passes over his face.

 

"Hey," she says, softer, smoothing the furrowed lines of his forehead with her thumb. "None of that.I'm here; I'm safe.You took care of me, remember?"

 

She tries to kiss the sorrow off his face. _'I'm here'_ she wants to say. _'I'm alright.It's not your fault.'_

 

His hands grasp her face and he kisses her desperately, his response fiercer than anything she's felt from him before.He's sucking, licking, running his teeth along her lips as he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her.He swivels so she's underneath him and runs his hand up from her hip to her breast and thumbs her nipple through her thin nightdress.While his energy is frantic and barely contained, his touch remains so achingly gentle, like she might break if he presses too hard.It touches Padme in a way that makes her want to cry, but another, fiercer part of her wants to destroy the idea that she's some delicate thing that the men she loves need to protect.

 

She returns his kiss with a bite that nearly draws blood and grabs his ass as hard as she can and pushes him against her.He moans into her mouth and rolls his hips against her and _yes, yes, yes_.They aren't dead and Obi-wan's right; they aren't even that old and they are going to have sex if it's the last thing Padme does.

 

They scramble out of their clothes in what is neither of their most graceful moments.There are some knees in ribs and hands on hair and leggings stuck on ankles, but there's also a lot of smiling and giggling and kissing, so they don't mind.

 

He kisses his way down her throat, nipping across her collarbones as he makes his way towards her chest.She's used to his beard by now when she kisses him, but the feeling of bristle against her nipple is odd.She thinks she might like it, though - especially with his tongue darting out to soothe the skin around her areola every now and then.

 

He takes his time with her, for which Padme is grateful.Despite her enthusiasm, her body takes a little longer to get ready than it used to.His energy is a bit less frantic now, but no less focused.His fingers rub her with a precision and rhythm that make her wonder if Obi-wan is using the Force to peek into her mind.She spreads her legs and thrusts gently against him.When he finally starts scissoring his way into her with his fingers, she gasps and clutches at his hair, which produces a moan from him, in turn.

 

When he finally enters her, he does it slowly while kissing her eyebrows and cheeks and ears."Padme," he whispers, tinged with reverence and the slightest bit of disbelief. "Padme, _Padme."_

 

He holds himself still, vibrating slightly with the effort of restraining himself, as she grows accustomed to him.When she finally starts thrusting up against him, he crushes his lips to hers.She thinks, maybe, if they were younger, they'd be trying something a little bit more innovative, something that required slightly more flexibility.As it is, the mere weight of Obi-wan on top of her and the snap of his hips against hers is enough to make her battered body sing with pleasure. 

 

It's not all smooth sailing.He tries to pull her leg up to angle himself deeper within her, but the motion pulls her muscles in a way they will no longer allow.She hisses with discomfort and he adjusts his grip until she's in a position that's more comfortable.

 

When she comes, it doesn't come crashing down on her like it used to.She has to focus and clench her muscles and hold her breath, but it's still quite lovely.The clench of her muscles around him draws breathless " _Fuck_ " from Obi-wan.The obscenity sounds absurd in his crisp, Coruscant accent and she bursts into a stream of giggles even as aftershocks pulse through her body.He scrunches his eyes shut at the sensation, then thrusts into her _hard -_ one, two, three - before he grinds himself against her and she can feel him spill his seed within her.After a moment, he rolls to the side and pulls her atop of him.She hooks her legs in his and buries her nose in his neck and breathes in the scent of him as they fall asleep.

 

This is not the last time they have sex.

 

~

 

She thinks, maybe, he loved her _before_.She doesn't ask him, though.That would open the door to too many questions that she doesn't want answers to.

 

~

 

It's nice - this tiny, portioned bit of happiness they've scraped together amidst the sands of Tatooine.Padme remembers more and more, but also starts to build new memories.She learns how to make food that tastes like something.

 

She sees Luke.Not every day.Not even very often, but she does see him.He calls her Miss Mala, not Mama or Mom, but he always greets her with a smile and tells her about the comings and goings in his life.He builds her things sometimes, little gadgets to help her around the house.She remembers a protocol droid when it still had exposed wires, but her smile is mostly just happy and proud as she accepts them (most days, that is).

 

Obi-wan had tried to stop her, at first.Tried, being the key word here.

 

Now, he comes, too, sometimes.He's sweet with him, but his gaze is full of ghosts and she thinks, sometimes, that Luke can see them, too.She wonders if her own face betrays her as much.

 

It cannot last forever.

 

~

 

They're sitting in a grimy establishment, waiting on a drink and part for their vaporizer (yes, this is somewhere where you can find _both_ ) when they hear something about the Princess of Alderaan over the holo.

 

_Leia._

 

She's never seen her little girl.

 

Her little girl is not so little.Her little girl is in fucking _Wobani,_ of all places _._

 

She hobbles out on her walker as fast as she can.They haven't paid for their drinks, they haven't even gotten their stupid replacement part, but Padme needs to breathe fresh air before faints or screams or starts throwing things.

 

~

 

She's silent the whole way home.

 

The moment the door closes: "I'm going to Alderaan."

 

"You are absolutely not!Alderaan is under intense scrutiny right now, especially the royal family and their daughter-"

 

"MY daughter!" she shouts.

 

"Yes," he acknowledges in his negotiator voice (it makes her want to scream; she does not need to be _managed_ ) "But theirs, too."

 

He's right.She knows he's right, is _glad_ he's right. 

 

 _Hates_ that he's right.

 

"Well, I'm not just sitting around here anymore; I'm getting off this planet and I'm doing something.Come if you want or stay here, if you like; I don't care."

 

"How?" he asks, quietly.Too quietly, too calmly. 

 

(It means he thinks he's won.)

 

"I'll get a ship," she says, feeling her plans slip away as the words leave her mouth.

 

She refuses to give in, though.

 

"With what money?" Obi-wan asks.His calm is infuriating.

 

"We broke the galaxy, Obi-wan!" she shouts, rage and guilt and grief and frustration all bubbling to the surface. "And here we are, hiding away and fucking and living like we have the _right-_ "

 

"And what are we supposed to do?" he snaps.It's a question and a plea and an accusation all at once.

 

She opens her mouth, scrambling for a reply, but he plows on before she can get anything out."Everything we have ever done trying to make things better has only ever made things worse!" 

 

She throws a cup at his face.It's a testament to how unfocused he is that he doesn't catch it.It doesn't stop him, though.

 

"How many missions did I go on that were clearly planned and orchestrated in order to further Palpatine's goals?How many times did I protect the chancellor himself?And you?How many pieces of legislature penned or approved by Palpatine did you help push through?We fought a war using _slaves_ \- slaves that I found, slaves that the Jedi had no problem using - that eventually led to the creation of the Empire."

 

"So what?" she asks, still smarting from the slice of his accusations.That he's inflicted these wounds on himself as well makes them hurt no less."We just sit around and give up?"

 

He looks like he wants to say yes.He looks like he wants to say no.

 

Instead, he says, "Well, what would you have us do?" She opens her mouth to respond, but - "Not what you want to do next, not what your immediate goal is.What do you want to achieve and how _precisely_ are you going to achieve it?"

 

~

 

Planning takes much longer than Padme imagines.

 

There's a lot of research involved; she's been out of the game for far too long.The players have changed; the technology has changed; the laws have changed.They paint huge, sprawling webs of information, draw overlapping spheres of unrest.They create fractured and obscured lines of communication to keep their identities and location hidden.

 

The changes they make can't be big, working in the small little box that they have to live in, but it's enough.They pass along information; they connect people; they help - they _do._

 

Even if Padme cannot always see it.

 

~

 

Their plans get larger.

 

They help free over a hundred political prisoners and Obi-wan scoops her up and throws her onto the bed and sucks her clit until she comes twice.

 

Then, of course, there's always the _Big One_.

 

~

 

One day, though, when everything is nearly ready, an R2 unit and a protocol droid land on Tatooine.

 

Their plans change.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the few ships I was actually invested in w/ the prequels when they first came out. Teenage me, this is for you.
> 
> I have no plans to continue this verse, but my muse has never listened to plans so who knows?


End file.
